Dreams and Realities
by Anyjen
Summary: Watanuki was used to dreaming about strange things. He was even used to dreaming about strange people. What he was not used to, was dreaming about *him* in *that* way... and pulling that dream into reality. Last chapter up! WataDou
1. Chapter 1

**Shounen ai warning. If you don't know what that is, don't bother reading. It means boy ****on boy love, and can scare people away. Trust me on this one.  
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**Bear in mind that I'm a writer who doesn't like subjecting the characters she borrows to stereotypes, so expect the unexpected, although I do try to keep them in character as much as possible.**

**Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be, so just let me borrow them for a while. I promise to give them back when I'm done.**

**Spoiler alert for up to chapter 146 of the manga. Probably more.**

**Especial thanks to my wonderful beta reader, Beboots, who took the time to point out each and every one of the grammar mistakes and other problems in the first version of this fic, and who also gave me very good suggestions in how to fix them. If you like how this thing is written, it's probably because of her.**

**Update (01/27/09) as of today, this story has more than 10,000 hits!! yay! thank you all, my wonderful readers! To tell you the truth, when I started writing this I never expected it to be so popular. :3  
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**That said, enjoy!**

* * *

Dreams and Realities

"_When we are dreaming alone__, it is only a dream. When we are dreaming with others, it is the beginning of reality."_

* * *

In his small, very neat apartment, Watanuki Kimihiro was dreaming.

This wasn't new to him. He often dreamt. He dreamt of strange things, visited strange places in his dreams and met strange people there. That such things happened in his dreams didn't really surprise him. After all, even awake he went through strange things, visited strange places and met strange people there. By now, he wasn't even surprised when his dreams turned out to be a bit more real than any other person's... quite literally more real. It wasn't everybody, he mused, who was able to pull things out of a dream, or leave things inside one. Take his glasses, for example. Their disappearance had freaked him out at first, but he now came to accept it as normal. As normal as his life was ever going to be, which wasn't very, to say the least.

That is why he wasn't really surprised when he started dreaming that night, even though said dream was slightly different than the rest.

It was a weird dream, but not an unpleasant one...quite the contrary, in fact. If he could have thought rationally about it, he would have been rather happy to realize that this, for once, was a perfectly normal dream to have while being a hormonally charged teenager.

Unfortunately, the very nature of this particular dream didn't really leave him in a disposition to think rationally.

_Skin. Heat. Hands. Skin. Lips. Oh, those __**lips**__._

He didn't really question who was there with him in this particular dream; in fact, he didn't really question anything at all. But really, who could blame him?

_Skin. Lips. Hands, wandering hands. Lower. __**There**__._

_A gasp. A moan. Inside, he was inside. Friction, delicious friction. Heat. __**Heat**__._

_Lips. Hands. Skin, such delicious skin. Moans, such delicious moans. Heat. Skin. Friction. There, almost there. Faster. Harder. __**More**__._

Watanuki awoke with a shudder, and for once, it wasn't a shudder of fear, or sorrow, or even surprise. It was a shudder of pure, raw, pleasure.

He lay there, still, on top of his futon, trying to will his breathing back to normal, trying not to think of who had been there with him in this particular dream. Because now that he was awake, and the waves of pleasure were starting to ebb, the need to question was beginning to surface.

It wasn't the first time he had had a dream such as this one, really. After all, he was a perfectly healthy teenage boy... most of the time, at least. Feeling sick or passing out from the evil presence of some ayakashi or other didn't happen very often anymore. He didn't stupidly risk his life without thinking of the consequences as much as before, either. It was _another_ who did the stupidly-risking-his-life thing now. But he was pretty sure this was the most realistic dream of this nature he had ever been in, not to mention the most intense.

He could feel a blush creep up his neck and reach all the way to his ears when he recalled some fragments of his dream. Try as he might, he could not deny that some of those fragments were a bit different from previous, similar dreams. Particularly the ones that hinted as to _who_ exactly had been there with him in this particular dream.

He slapped himself mentally. He also slapped himself physically, for good measure. He was _not_ going to think about it. After all, he was going to have to see this particular person in –he squinted at his alarm clock next to his futon- a couple of hours, and if he thought about it, he may start to feel the need to do something about it. And he would rather have danced naked in a demon parade on a full moon with a sign hanging on his back saying "eat me" than done something about this particular dream with this particular person.

Instead, he concentrated on other matters at hand. Glad that this wasn't one of those nights when he was staying at Yuuko's, he lifted the covers to assess the damage done to his sheets, only to find that there wasn't any.

_Where did __it go?_

In his bedroom on a Buddhist temple not too far from there, Doumeki Shizuka was also inspecting his sheets, but reaching an entirely different conclusion.

_That __certainly __**is**__ an unusually big mess._

* * *

Doumeki Shizuka was no stranger to pain.

In fact, he had grown up feeling all sorts of different aches and pains. When he was little, he used to get sick frequently. Training with the bow gave him blisters that sometimes bled, and when he was a beginner he often nipped his ear and cheek with the string. Once, he had accidentally been shot in the leg because of a clumsy accident during practice. It hadn't been his arrow, but it had still hurt.

After meeting a certain bespectacled boy, his aches and pains had actually increased. Having his arm almost maimed by a spirit he couldn't even see, having to stand waiting for ten hours in the rain, catching a stiletto cutter barehanded, losing half the sight in his right eye, losing almost a third of his blood to keep the damn boy _alive_, gave him a certain familiarity with pain that, while not welcomed, at least made its presence bearable.

But now he was _sore_.

He was not very sure how to deal with that. Particularly considering _where_ he was feeling sore, and that he couldn't think of any activity the day before that could have led to his feeling sore _there_.

Doumeki wasn't one to speculate. He was of the firm opinion that whatever he needed to know, he would eventually find out without having to go out of his way looking for answers. He would much rather focus on the things he could do about any given situation than waste time questioning how things got to be that way in the first place.

What he _could_ do now was wash the sheets in the bathroom before his mother started asking questions. Not that he would bother lying. In his opinion, there was nothing to hide. He was a perfectly healthy teenage boy, after all. He was _bound_ to have one or two dreams like that every once in a while. He wasn't particularly bothered by _who_ had appeared in his dream, or exactly _what_ had happened in it, or the role _he_ had played in that dream. It was just a dream, after all, albeit an enjoyable one.

But still, there was something at the back of his mind that whispered that maybe, just maybe, something wasn't quite the same with this dream as with the others. Something that had to do with the inexplicably big mess on his sheets and the strange soreness he felt.

Something that had to do with what he thought he glimpsed as he finished washing his sheets and he passed the bathroom mirror on his way out.

He stopped, backtracked and stared.

_Is that a hickey?_

* * *

**And thus ends chapter one. **

**The quote is from Dom ****Hélder Pessoa Câmara****. **

**Sorry about the lame title, I wasn't particularly inspired as regards naming this new-born plot bunny.**

**I haven't written fanfiction in a looong time, so constructive criticism is appreciated. In fact, reviews may help keep the brain juices flowing, so if you liked this, and want more, please let me know. **

**Glossary:**

**Ayakashi: demons, evil spirits, the sort. Although this term originally refers to a "ghost appearing at sea during a shripwreck" (according to the ever-faithfull wikipedia), it seems to acquire a broader meaning in xXxholic, which is the one I'm using. For some reason I like the Japanese word better.**

**Futon: a roll-up mattress, pretty comfy and useful if you lack space, although some Japanese people use them only because it's traditional.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you people for all your kind reviews. They are really appreciated, and believe me, they are good nourishment for my muses.**

**Once more, very special thanks to Beboots for being such a wonderful, wonderful beta reader. This story is only readable thanks to her thorough corrections, comments and encouragement.**

* * *

It would have been a severe understatement to say that Watanuki was not feeling very happy with the world that morning. Nothing short of 'livid' could possibly even begin to describe the way he felt. Even that word, in his personal opinion, was not strong enough.

The black-haired boy fumed as he wrapped up three bento boxes. He didn't deserve this. No, he didn't. He was a good person, he really was. He tried his best at everything he did, nobody could deny that. He worked hard, he cooked well, he was always doing what Yuuko demanded of him without -cough- complaining, he always paid his debts in full, he even tried his best at school! Never mind the fact he didn't even know which year he was in, he just _knew_ he was a good student, damn it!

Then _why_ oh _why_ did he have to dream about _him?_

_Why_ oh _why_ couldn't it have been sweet, beautiful Himawari-chan the one in his dream? Of all the people in the world, why did it have to be _him_?

_Him_.

_Doumeki_.

Watanuki slumped to the floor, grabbing his head in his hands and screaming his indignation to the heavens.

"_WHY? WHY __**HIM**__?"_

Obnoxious, insufferable, ungrateful, egotist, unfeeling, shameless, perverted, _male_ Doumeki.

That was _so_ wrong on _so_ many different levels that Watanuki couldn't even begin to enumerate them.

He felt dirty. Defiled. His innocence lost forever, never to come back. Never mind the fact that he had enjoyed it, and quite a lot at that. He had conveniently blocked that particular piece of information out of his mind.

He had tried to forget about it. He had really tried, done his best to think of other things, immerse himself in cooking the bento for lunch and breakfast for himself -although he had no memory of eating it- but to no avail.

The harder he tried to forget, the clearer he remembered.

It hadn't helped, of course, that he had been _forced_ to cook a bento for that big oaf, nor that today's order was as difficult to make as ever, possibly even more. No, it definitely hadn't.

If anything, it had reminded him of just how very _unfair_ life was to him.

And to think that out there, somewhere, there were normal people who didn't have any of his problems. People who weren't forced to be in the company of that_ jerk_, who didn't owe him their very lives, who didn't have that_ jerk_ invade their private dreams, who didn't have to cook him bento _every single frigging day_. Just to think of the existence of those very, very lucky people made him want to kick something. Why oh why couldn't _he_ have been one of those people? Why oh why did _he_ have to be plagued by that _pest_?

Oh, he could always ignore the big oaf, of course. The only problem would be that then he would be plagued by extremely annoying, not to mention incredibly dangerous ayakashi instead. Ayakashi who wanted him for their dinner, and not because they wanted him to cook it for them.

At times like this, however, he wondered whether putting up with the ayakashi would be less annoying than putting up with _him_.

Watanuki sniffled dramatically and got back on his feet.

He wasn't going to be brought down by this. He was strong, he would recover.

He wasn't going to let that _jerk_ get the better of him.

After all, despite all his suffering, there were two little, tiny, minuscule rays of sunshine. A small consolation, perhaps, but enough to make him think that there _was_ justice in this world, all things considered.

He grabbed hold of that small consolation as though it were the last thread that kept his sanity together, and gave him enough strength to go on walking along the winding path that was his strange life.

The first one, a simple yet strong truth, made him able to stop sniffling and concentrate on his remaining tasks for the morning. It was the simple, strong truth that, as strange and realistic as his dreams were, no one alive other than Yuuko –and Sakura and Syaoran- had been able to look into them, and not even _she_ gave any indication when awake that she had. There was _no_ reason for _anyone_ to _ever_ know _what_ he had dreamt last night, and _who_ he had dreamt about.

The boy with the mismatched eyes finished wrapping the bento, grabbed his schoolbag, put on his shoes and left the building with a new sense of purpose, given by the second glimpse of light that shone on his gloomy mood.

After all, even in all his misery he could grin and cackle evilly when he remembered that during the dream, it had been _Doumeki_ who had played the role of the _girl_.

* * *

At lunch time, Doumeki plopped down next to Watanuki with a scowl on his face and an incriminatory tone in his voice.

"You never showed up at the temple this morning."

Watanuki bristled like a cat at Doumeki, but refused to meet his eyes. _Of course _he hadn't shown up at Doumeki's temple. He had purposely left earlier than usual and taken a different route to school than normal, so that he would have no chances of meeting the guy. In doing so he had risked meeting an ayakashi -or several- on his way, but mercifully there had been no strange sightings at all.

Unfortunately, he couldn't avoid the _pest_ during lunch time because that would mean changing his lunch-eating location on the school grounds under the big sakura tree –currently not in bloom- and that would mean sweet, beautiful Himawari-chan wouldn't have been able to find him, either.

Watanuki very carefully avoided looking at the taller boy, concentrating instead in glaring at a non-descript shape in the distance. The _nerve_ of the guy. _As if_ he was going to let him walk him to school after intruding so _rudely_ in his dreams the night before.

Never mind the fact that he only did it to keep him safe from ayakashi, it was just _preposterous_ to think he would put up with his presence during the entire trip to school after what the _jerk_ had done.

By this time, Watanuki's logic had distorted somewhat from what could pass as normal for him.

His thinking processes went something like this:

1- Doumeki was a jerk.

2- Doumeki always made him uncomfortable with his actions, words or simply the way he _looked_.

3- Doumeki had appeared last night in a dream that had made him _very_ uncomfortable.

4- The jerk must have done something to cause this, since he always caused him to be uncomfortable.

5- The jerk was the one at fault here.

That was how he had reached the conclusion that, in some way or another, it was Doumeki's fault that he had had such a dream the night before, and he should be punished for it.

Watanuki refused to contemplate that if it really had been just a dream -and he was desperately hoping it had been- Doumeki would have no way to know what he had done wrong, because dreams, after all, were usually very private things.

Unless he chose to tell him something about it, Doumeki would be completely ignorant of his current woes and the reason he was avoiding him.

That of, course, assuming it had only been a dream, something the careful observer must have realized by now it hadn't been, but neither of the boys knew that... yet.

Doumeki scowled at Watanuki for the better part of a minute.

_He_ wasn't bothering to make assumptions about the dream he had had the night before, even if his instincts were screaming at him that there was something more to it than it seemed at first.

He was paying no heed to the fact that he was still quite sore. He wasn't even thinking about his hickey, now currently concealed under his shirt.

If Doumeki had been a mind reader, and could have taken a look at what Watanuki was thinking about at the moment, he would have been able to collect important information that would have confirmed his suspicions that last night's dream had been a bit more than a simple dream. The reason for this was that even the most superficial survey of the strange boy's current thoughts would have displayed shockingly clear images that weren't really out of place in a teenage boy's mind, but that he would have had no trouble recognizing even though Doumeki was not currently thinking about those very same images. Those kinds of images, after all, are stubborn and refuse to leave the mind of healthy teenage boys without a struggle.

It was a shame, really, that he wasn't a mind-reader, after all. That ability would have given him, at least, a suitable explanation as for the cause to his current indignant accusation.

Doumeki felt quite justified in recriminating Watanuki for ditching him. He had, after all, gone to great lengths to keep the weird boy alive, and it would have been a terrible waste to have gone through all that just to have him eaten by something strange when he wasn't nearby.

However, being his usual paranoid self, Watanuki only interpreted his accusations as an effort to, once more, make him feel uncomfortable, because the more Doumeki looked at him like that, the more Watanuki felt his mind invaded -accosted- by memories of the previous night's dream.

Not that he wanted to remember. Of course not. He was just in shock, that's all. It was like the victims of horrible accidents, who kept reliving their trauma, unable to free their minds of the memory of the horrible, horrible events they had been subjected to.

Because the memory of last night's dream was nothing if not horrible. There was nothing _good_ about the memory of skin, and lips, and heat. Not when said skin, lips and heat belonged to _that jerk_.

Not when _that jerk_ had suddenly changed his mind about scowling at him and was currently tucking in to his home-made bento, without even a word of thanks.

Feeling safe in the knowledge that there was _no way_ Doumeki could know what he had dreamt about last night and still intent in punishing the bastard for his rudeness, he proceeded to react in typical Watanuki fashion, which is to say, screaming and waving an accusing finger at the shameless, insensitive jerk for starting to eat right away without waiting for all of them to be there.

"You could at least thank me before you started eating! You ungrateful, shameless bastard!"

Doumeki glanced at Watanuki, feeling the other boy's accusations to be unjustified. If he hadn't been grateful for the food, he wouldn't be eating it, now would he?

"Idiot."

"_What did you just call me?"_

"I called you an idiot."

"_You don't need to repeat yourself!"_

"Then don't ask me to."

"_I wasn't asking you to repeat what you said!"_

"You made a question. I would call that asking."

"_People are not always asking things when they make questions!"_

Before he could argue his perfectly logical point further, Watanuki was interrupted by the most beautiful voice in the world accompanied by a vision of the cutest girl in the entire surface of the earth – no other opinions accepted – coming running towards them, long curly hair cascading down her back, lovely face apologetic.

"I'm sorry I took so long."

Immediately following these words, Watanuki jumped to his feet, sporting the biggest smile he had displayed that day.

"Hi-ma-wa-ri-chaaaaan!"

Doumeki watched, slightly amused, as Watanuki performed his 'Himawari-chan is so cute' dance, guiding her to the cloth spread out on the grass, dusting the spot where she would be sitting, placing her bento in front of her and offering her a glass of iced tea, all in the space of three seconds flat.

Then his eyes narrowed, his face adopting a scowl as he noticed something.

"Oi."

"Haven't I told you not to call me 'Oi'?"

Doumeki allowed himself only one second to properly enjoy the sudden change in expression in Watanuki's face -it never ceased to amuse him- before he pointed his chopsticks in the direction of the girl's bento.

"How come _my_ sausages aren't octopus-shaped?"

As if to make his point, he grabbed one of his plain sausages and shoved it right in front of Watanuki's eyes, making him squint slightly.

"_There is no reason for them to be!"_

Himawari said her thanks and started eating her own, cutely octopus-shaped sausages, watching Watanuki bristle like a cat at Doumeki, who was wearing his trademark scowl and still hadn't removed his chopsticks from Watanuki's face, as if expecting the other boy to grab his sausage and give it the desired shape then and there.

"I don't see why not."

"_It's obvious why! Octopus-shaped sausages are __**cute**__! Himawari-chan is __**cute**__, so __**her bento**__ has to be cute! You are __**not **__cute, and so there is __**no**__ reason why __**your food**__ should be!"_

Doumeki didn't reply, but he didn't change his expression. Neither did he remove his chopsticks.

Therefore, Watanuki felt the need to explain his foolproof logic further. Obviously Doumeki was so thick-headed that he wasn't able to comprehend such a basic truth of the universe without his help.

"_In fact, you are sooo far removed from the concept of cute that if 'cute' ever had to be used in relation to your person, it would surely lose all of its cuteness, shrivel up, and die!"_

Doumeki only narrowed his eyes a fraction of a millimetre more before removing his chopsticks from in front of Watanuki's face, propping the aforementioned plain sausage into his mouth and turning his gaze to his bento.

"Don't forget to make them octopus-shaped tomorrow."

"_Why, youuuuu!"_ Watanuki was getting so angry that his face was turning slightly purple. Doumeki just stuck a finger from his free hand in the ear closest to Watanuki, while he kept popping food in his mouth with the other.

Himawari chose that particular moment to let out a soft giggle, Tampopo chirping happily from its perch in her shoulder.

"You two are so close today. Did something happen last night?"

There was a full second when no sound was heard, save for the faint whisper of the breeze on the leaves of the nearby tree, the chirping of Tampopo, and the slight popping sound made by the last thread that kept Watanuki's sanity into place coming cleanly apart.

"_W... W... WHY WOULD __**ANYTHING**__ HAPPEN BETWEEN US LAST NIGHT?"_

Doumeki let Watanuki suffer alone for a few seconds, watching how the shorter boy's face adopted the wildest and widest selection of bewildered expressions he had yet seen and his mouth spluttered barely intelligible nonsense – "nothing at all" – "why would we" – "not with _him_!" – "you've got it _all wrong_!" - before taking pity of him and easing his suffering.

"She didn't ask if something happened _between us_ last night."

When the other boy just stared at him blankly, the loudest silence ever heard filling the entire place, he clarified.

"There was no ´between us´ in her question. That was all your assumption."

The amount of flailing and shouting that followed his perfectly sensible statement was so grandiose, that Doumeki had to plug both his ears with his fingers to be able to properly enjoy it.

* * *

Contrary to what Watanuki believed and often preached, Doumeki was no stranger to shame, just as he was no stranger to pain.

The difference was that while he was on a first-name basis with pain, he was only a passing acquaintance with shame. That is to say, he was able to recognize its existence, and sometimes even looked at it straight in the eye, but he had never really stopped for conversation.

Shame, it seemed, wasn't very happy with this arrangement, if the events that took place during archery practice that afternoon were of any indication.

As he changed into his archery clothes, leaving his neck and part of his chest totally exposed -leaving his hickey totally exposed- he had wondered very briefly whether anyone would notice.

He had certainly not expected the level of staring and whispering he got as soon as he stepped into the dojo. Really, for all people knew, it could have been a birthmark. Or a bruise. A coin-shaped, rosy-coloured bruise. Right where the neck and the shoulder met.

How very naive he had been.

Shame, it seemed, was making a lot of effort to procure his friendship. He turned his back to it and went to grab his arrows.

It wasn't difficult to ignore the stares of his classmates. It wasn't even difficult to ignore the whispers. He had endured worse staring and worse whispering every time he had had to carry an unconscious Watanuki to his home, or to Yuuko's shop, not to mention all those times he had been on the receiving end of Watanuki's rants and flailing. Stares and whispers he could handle.

What he wasn't sure he could handle was his archery instructor, a very sweet old lady who sometimes even went to his home for tea, _gaping_ at him when he turned back to face the room at large.

She was staring right at his -he now realized- very obvious hickey. She slowly raised her eyes from his neck to his face.

Shame waved happily at him from behind her eyes.

He returned her stare without a change in expression, waiting for the inevitable question... that never came. She just turned, clapped her hands once and called everybody to line up.

Shame, dejected, slunk out of the dojo, leaving him free to concentrate on his bow, his arrows, the target, and nothing else.

* * *

Watanuki took as long as he dared to get to Yuuko's shop. He had a very good reason for doing so.

It wasn't that the work was hard, or Yuuko was unmanageable, or Mokona was annoying. Those were his _normal_ reasons to take as long as he dared to get to her shop. That day, Watanuki had a _special_ reason not to hurry.

Said special reason had very little to do with what he was expected to do as her hired help, and a lot to do with the images that kept flashing uninvited through his mind.

He wasn't looking forward to facing his drunken, omniscient, happy-go-lucky employer with those images running wild in his mind. Not when she always _knew_. Not when she always _tortured_ him about what she knew.

Watanuki stopped just in front of the gates, doing his best to empty his mind of all thought, steeling himself before he took even a single step inside.

_Be strong, Watanuki Kimihiro. Keep cool. Don't let her think anything strange happened to you._

Watanuki knew, just _knew_, that if Yuuko ever found out _what_ and _who_ he had dreamed about the previous night, he would _never_ be able to live it down. She would make _sure_ he didn't forget about it for the rest of his days.

He clenched his jaw, puffed out his chest and stepped resolutely into the shop.

"Tadaim_aaaaargh!"_

He hadn't even been able to take off his shoes before a furry comet had flown to meet him, almost strangling him in its loving ministrations.

"_Mugetsu_! Stop that!"

Not without considerable effort, Watanuki managed to catch the enthusiastic kudakitsune and pull it away from his face, which the little furry creature was smothering with kisses.

"What's up with _you_ today?"

"He is just happy to see you, that's all."

Watanuki froze. Moving a fraction of an inch at a time, he turned to face Yuuko, who was currently wearing one of her fanciest, scantiest, flashiest outfits, and a grin that would have put the Cheshire cat to shame.

_She knows._

Yuuko slowly bent forward, looking at him straight in the eye.

"Today is a special day, after all."

Watanuki tried his best not to be intimidated by her words, or her dirty grin, or her eyes, or the privileged view he had of a bouncing part of Yuuko's anatomy he wasn't sure he was allowed to stare at.

Instead, he plastered on his best fake smile and asked, in as innocent a tone of voice as he could, "And why is that, Yuuko-san?"

Watanuki felt the silence stretch between them like a separate entity; a living, breathing being that feasted on his nervousness like it was the most delicious thing in the world.

"Why, it's the anniversary of the day we received Mugetsu as payment, of course. Don't tell me you've forgotten?"

A huge wave of relief crashed down on the beach of Watanuki's mind, erasing all the words of panic that had been written on the sand with the stick of Yuuko's grin.

Without waiting for his reply, Yuuko continued, the happiest, cutest, most child-like expression on her face.

"And that's why we are having a party today! Watanuki, bring out the drinks!"

"_You just wanted an excuse to drink, as always!"_

* * *

Watanuki fumed.

Life _definitely_ wasn't fair to him.

It wasn't enough that he had been _forced_ to endure the humiliation of waking up to a dream of _that nature_ that had involved _that guy_. It hadn't been enough that _that guy_ had pestered him with his presence all through lunch. It hadn't been enough that he had _almost_ blurted out what he had dreamt about when cute, sweet Himawari-chan had asked.

No. He had _also_ been forced to cook enough snacks to feed an army and drag countless bottles out of Yuuko's storage room so that the shameless woman and the black bun could cheerfully drink their way to liver disease. It never stopped amazing him how that little black bunny-like creature could eat and drink several times its own weight. He had the impression that Yuuko could do that, too. How did the woman manage to never gain weight?

Several hours after the "party" had began, she had finally managed to drink enough to pass out, and he had _also_ had to drag the drunken lady to her bedroom so that she wouldn't get a crick in her back from sleeping on a hard wooden floor.

As if he didn't have enough things to do already, what with having to clean out all the empty bottles and do all the dishes of all the food she and Mokona had gobbled up.

Before leaving, he had placed a bottle of the strongest available hangover medicine next to her futon. He was too kind to the crazy woman, sometimes.

He stopped a second to sigh dramatically before beginning to put on his shoes to leave.

At least he wouldn't have to cook dinner for himself now, since some of the ridiculously-expensive and nearly-impossible-to-get roasted fish had miraculously survived the culinary attack of the party beasts. Yuuko, in a display of unusual generosity, had told him to take it home with him, shortly before passing out.

He had also prepared a thermos flask of green tea before leaving.

He really wasn't in the mood to do _anything_ once he got to the safety of his apartment, save eat, curl up in his futon and sleep the rest of that horrible day into oblivion.

He finished putting on his shoes, grabbed the bag with the food and the flask of tea and left the shop.

"So, _did_ something happen last night?"

Watanuki almost fell flat on his face when he heard that voice.

That annoying, grating, emotionless voice.

Such a voice could belong to one person, and one person only.

"_You again!"_

When he turned violently around, he found himself face-to-face with a very annoyed-looking Doumeki Shizuka... quite literally face-to-face.

"_Don't stand so close to people, you jerk!"_

Watanuki ran a couple of steps backwards to put some distance between himself and _that guy_. After the previous night's dream -which he had _almost_ been able to forget about- he wasn't feeling very comfortable standing so close to the bane of his existence.

Doumeki, arms folded across his chest, kept staring Watanuki right in the eye and repeated his question.

"_Did_ something happen last night? You never answered Kunogi."

Watanuki willed his breathing back to normal and turned so he wasn't looking at Doumeki's face. He wasn't feeling comfortable looking at him, either.

He resumed walking back home from Yuuko's shop, an activity that had been rudely interrupted just as he was crossing the gate. If the jerk had been there the entire time, why hadn't he come in? It wasn't like he couldn't see the shop anymore.

"Why would you think anything happened last night?"

Doumeki started following Watanuki -_dogging_ him, the shorter guy thought- and answered in his own brand of logic.

"Because you looked dumber than usual when she asked."

Watanuki never got a chance to reply to such an outrageous statement.

As soon as he turned to face the still-too-close guy, ready to scream his indignation, a cloud of pure black smoke appeared out of nowhere and enveloped the two of them.

A mangy stray that had been watching the scene approached the spot where the two boys had been and sniffed it half-heartedly. There was nothing there.

* * *

**So that's it for chapter two. I'm working on chapter three, but I don't think I'll be able to upload it very soon. Watanuki has been giving me troubles. I think he is still sulking for having made him have such a dream... Still, if you liked the story so far, please let me now. It's always good encouragement to know there is someone on the other side who wants to read what you are writing. :)**

**Glossary:**

**Bento: Boxed lunch. In case you were wondering, Japanese people do shape their bento sausages (among other things) into cute shapes, octopus being one of the favourites. We can actually see Doumeki eating one somewhere in volume three of the manga, but I'm supposing he took that from Himawari's bento, since I really can't picture Watanuki putting in the effort to do something so cute for Doumeki, of all people. **

**Tadaima: "I'm home": what Japanese people call aloud when they get home. Watanuki always calls it when he gets to Yuuko's shop, although technically it wouldn't be necessary as it's not really his home, only his workplace. The proper answer to this is "okaeri nasai", which means "welcome home". Mugetsu was only answering in his own fashion, since he can't speak. :3**

**Kudakitsune: Tube/pipe fox. The cute, furry and Watanuki-loving fox spirit they got as payment for completing Ame-Warashi's (the child of the rain) request.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Here at last is chapter three. Once again, thank you all for your kind reviews****; it's really encouraging to know what you think of my work.**

**A slight warning to those people who have only watched the anime: you may get a bit lost at times since I base this story mostly on the manga, and the anime has been deviating a bit from it in certain aspects; Watanuki's dreams and his connection to the Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicle cast in particular.**

**It's not such a big deal, though, so you'll still be able to enjoy this even if you haven't read the manga.**

**Once more, the biggest of thanks to Beboots for being such a wonderful beta reader. If it hadn't been for her encouragement, you would probably have been forced to wait for another month before I was confident enough to upload this chapter.**

**Update: Product Of A Sick Society was kind enough to go through this chapter for me even though she joined the team after it was uploaded, so I changed a couple of things I hadn't been very happy about and for which she gave me very good suggestions. It's not much, but it should read a bit better now.**

* * *

Watanuki dreamt. It has already been established that that, in itself, wasn't a rare occurrence. As a matter of fact, Watanuki dreamt more often than any other person he knew, although his dreams weren't quite living up to his expectations as of late. Dreams, he believed, were something one had when asleep. Dreams were something that didn't dictate what was going to happen during your waking hours. Dreams were not places where you lost your glasses, forcing you to rely on the sight of a borrowed eye to be able to handle normal life. Dreams were not places where dead people, long gone, cheerfully advised the living on how to deal with their spoiled grandchildren. Dreams were certainly not places one was abducted to in the middle of the evening, with no prior warning, when you were still clutching a bag with food and a flask of tea and ready to scream bloody murder at your rival. Dreams were not places one was abducted to _together_ with said rival.

Those, he called nightmares.

He was currently in one.

How else, then, could you explain the fact that he was now in a non-descript place that could be anywhere and yet was nowhere, alone save for the never-welcome presence of Doumeki? Who, by the way, was looking rather like an idiot to Watanuki, staring slowly around himself and clutching an ugly-looking cloth bag in his left hand. Who the hell carries ugly cloth bags around in the middle of the evening, anyway?

"We are not outside that woman's shop anymore."

_No shit._

"Isn't that obvious?"

"Where are we?"

Watanuki didn't answer. He just crossed his arms, his own, much more dignified-looking bag dangling from one of his hands and glared at nowhere in particular. Like he was going to tell Doumeki that they were in one of his dreams... no, scratch that, _nightmares_.

Watanuki stopped for a second to scrutinize that train of thought as though it were a particularly disgusting kind of insect that had crawled into his kitchen. If he had fallen suddenly asleep in the middle of the street -like he had done a couple of times already- then why was Doumeki with him? So far, he had always appeared alone... save for that time Sakura and Syaoran had shown up, but that didn't count as they weren't supposed to be in this world, right?

Watanuki chanced a small glance in the direction of Doumeki, who was still looking around, apparently trying to find out where they were.

Maybe this was Haruka-san playing a trick on him?

The Doumeki next to him chose that particular moment to stop looking around and fix his gaze upon Watanuki's bag.

"I'm hungry. Is that food?"

_Nope. Definitely the moronic grandson._

"If it were, what makes you think I'd give it to you?"

Doumeki, without answering, took Watanuki's bag from his hand.

Watanuki raised imaginary hackles at the sheer _nerve_ of the guy.

"_Don't you __**dare**__ touch that! That's __**my**__ dinner!"_

Doumeki looked up from inspecting the contents of the bag, an accusatory look in his face.

"There's only roasted fish in here."

"Shut up! There's only roasted fish in there because that's all that managed to survive the attack of the bottomless pits that are Yuuko and the black bun! You have _no_ right to complain!"

Whatever complaints he may have as for the nature of the food, however, Doumeki was already sitting on the floor and starting on the roasted fish.

"Tea."

...and having the nerve to ask him to pour him tea, too!

"It wouldn't kill you to pour your own tea from time to time, you lazy jerk! Besides which, who the heck stops to munch on roasted fish and slurp tea when they find themselves mysteriously abducted to the middle of nowhere?"

Doumeki looked up from his fish, looking uninterestedly at Watanuki.

"Somebody who's hungry? And it's not like there's anything better to do."

"What about trying to find a way out?"

"You do that. I'm eating."

"I can see that, thank you very much!"

"You're welcome. Before you go, don't forget to pour my tea."

"_YOU CAN POUR YOUR OWN TEA!"_

Clearly, life was not done making him suffer for the day. As if it hadn't been cruel enough to him, now it was enlisting Doumeki's help to add to his workload!

Watanuki took one of the paper cups rather fiercely out of the bag and filled it to the brim with the scalding hot tea from the thermos.

_I hope you burn your tongue with the hot tea, you jerk._

Watanuki stopped for a second and came to the decision there was no reason to keep that beautiful thought to himself.

"I hope you burn your tongue with the hot tea, you jerk!"

Doumeki barely threw him a glance as he took the proffered cup of tea from Watanuki's hand.

"Idiot."

"_What did you just call me?"_

Doumeki was struck with a sense of déjà vu as he sipped his tea and... yes, burnt his tongue with the hot tea.

"It's hot."

"Hah! Serves you right!"

Feeling slightly better about the world at large, Watanuki sat down on the floor -or rather the non-descript stuff that was underneath his feet- and poured himself a cup of tea as well.

He glared at Doumeki. It figures that the jerk would gobble down _his_ dinner without even a word of thanks. Was the jerk even able to appreciate how much trouble went into making the food he inhaled without so much as a by your leave?

Doumeki, oblivious to Watanuki's furious train of thought, kept tucking in to the ridiculously-expensive and nearly-impossible-to-get roasted fish Yuuko and Mokona had neglected to eat during the impromptu party that night.

Whatever Watanuki may think about him, Doumeki was somebody who took his food seriously. After all, he had grown up listening to his grandfather telling him stories about the food shortage after the war, and had early on in his life decided he was not going to waste even a grain of rice, if it could be helped.

Besides, it didn't seem like they were in any immediate danger considering Watanuki wasn't flailing around and screaming at empty air, and whatever they may have to face, wouldn't it be better to face it on a full stomach?

One could say that Doumeki Shizuka had a very simple way of looking at life, one that so far only the weird antics of a certain over-excitable and overreacting teenager had been able to challenge... or at least nag to long enough to make it want to be able to plug its ears so as not to have to listen to the whining any more. Unfortunately, simplistic views of life aren't really equipped to do such a thing and his were forced to endure the onslaught every time he was in the company of said teenager.

After being repeatedly exposed to such fierce assaults to their simplistic-ness, they had had to choose between changing and dying as the only possible means to escape the torture.

The first to go was Doumeki's innate lack of curiosity. After all, it was practically impossible to watch the display of at least twenty different expressions battling to take supremacy over Watanuki's face and not feel at least slightly curious as to what could be causing such a confrontation.

When his lack of curiosity had given up its life, other ways of regarding life had followed... not very important ones and never without a fight, but all of them absolutely fed up at their owner's insistence on being near the cause for their demise.

The last one to succumb, after a long and gruesome battle, was Doumeki's deeply ingrained notion that anybody's business was their own, and had nothing to do with him. That one had finally perished when he had awoken from a rather pleasant dream carrying the unmistakeable signs of having shared physical intimacy with _somebody_ despite having been nowhere near _anybody_ at the time when said intimacy was supposed to have taken place.

At first, he had tried to dismiss it as unimportant, but even without straining his memory, he couldn't help but notice that the events that had taken place in his dream, had they taken place in real life, would have left marks in his body in uncannily the same places the marks he was currently sporting were.

Any other person, had they been faced with Doumeki's predicament, would have waved their sanity goodbye and voluntarily secluded themselves in an asylum, but Doumeki knew better. This whole affair smelled supernatural to him, and he didn't have to go very far to find the source of most things supernatural within his life.

In fact, he didn't have to go farther than the boy sitting a few feet from him, slurping tea noisily in what seemed to be some kind of protest and mumbling angrily to himself.

The funerary pyre for that particular view of life had been lit when he remembered it had been this very same mumbling person that had appeared in his dream, and that this person had been acting stranger than usual for the entire day.

Doumeki Shizuka was a very calm person. He had been brought up to be that way. Ever since he could remember, he had been taught how to control his emotions, how to measure his words, his actions, even his thoughts. Nothing was to be done in excess. Life, because it was such a precious gift, had to be lived sparingly, carefully, and deliberately.

Archery had only re-enforced that notion. You only get one chance, so don't waste it. Make it worth it. A shot arrow never returns; you never get the chance to shoot it again. So aim carefully before you let the arrow fly.

In that way, he had learnt to take his time to make up his mind, and once he did, to stick with his decision all the way.

That was why it had taken Doumeki the entire day to take the decision to approach the weird boy about his nagging suspicions regarding his strange dream but now that he had, he was determined not to back down until he had extracted satisfactory answers from the other party involved.

That was why he had wound up outside Yuuko's shop, waiting for the boy to come out. He decided his chances to extract an answer out of the guy were slightly better without the distracting presence of the witch and the black bun around. Thus, he had waited until Watanuki had finished work and left the shop.

He hadn't let the change in surroundings immediately following the boy's appearance affect his decision to interrogate him; it had simply made him postpone it for later. At least until he had finished eating, something he did soon enough.

"Gochisousama."

Watanuki glared at Doumeki when he heard those words. There was _no way_ somebody who ate that fast could taste properly what he was eating, he decided. He had barely managed to drink his tea in the time it had taken Doumeki to finish all the fish _and_ drink his tea.

So busy had Watanuki been mentally criticizing Doumeki's table manners -or lack thereof- that he was completely unprepared for the following words that came out of the annoying boy's mouth.

"What are you hiding?"

Watanuki jumped in his place when he heard that question.

"What makes you think I'm hiding anything?"

Doumeki stared at Watanuki. The weird guy was tense, and was refusing to meet his eyes, choosing to glare at a point some feet to his left instead. It was obvious from his demeanour that he wasn't going to be able to extract direct answers to his questions. With a mental sigh, he decided to take the long way around. Mercifully this place gave Watanuki no place to run.

"You know where we are, don't you?"

Watanuki relaxed noticeably at his words, which answered quite plainly a question Doumeki had implied in the first one. Watanuki _was_ hiding something, and he didn't want Doumeki asking about it. In fact, Watanuki was so relieved to be asked that, that he forgot his previous determination not to let on to the golden-eyed boy that they were currently sharing a trip to dream -nightmare- land.

"I'm not really sure but I think... we are in a dream."

Doumeki considered that notion for a second. He looked around himself a couple of times, taking in the lack of light, the absence of people, the unnerving silence and the seemingly insubstantial objects around them. He had noticed them before, but hadn't paid much attention then. Now that he did, he realized that the more he tried to focus his sight on something, the more that thing seemed to change shape and turn into a different, equally unidentifiable thing. It sort of made sense, only...

"If this is a dream, it doesn't seem to be a very happy one."

"_Of course_ it isn't! _You're_ in it, so it isn't a dream, it's a _nightmare_!"

After all the effort Yuuko put into teaching Watanuki the importance of words, one would think he would have known better than to label that dream as a nightmare so quickly. Words have the power to affect people and change realities. Normally the change is slight, as there are too many people speaking and shaping reality to make a single word matter much in the whole. However, this was not reality, not as it is normally perceived. This was a different reality, a world all on itself. Dreams, after all, depend on the dreamer to shape them, consciously or otherwise, and so their words take on a very different relevance there than in the waking world.

Oblivious to this, Watanuki wasn't inclined to pay much attention to what he said on account of having Doumeki right in front of him looking at him in that irritatingly blank way and daring to question him. Not that it would have mattered in the long run. In fact, he would have to have been exceptionally attentive to be able to notice that as soon as those words left his mouth, something shifted in the darkness. After that very, very subtle shift in the darkness, something began to change, but slowly, so very slowly and so gradually, that it was a while before Watanuki began to feel its effects, and a while longer yet before he could recognize them for what they truly were. What was done couldn't now be undone, and he would have to face the consequences.

In the meantime, he was busy glaring at Doumeki and answering his questions with as much sting as he could, which we are sorry to say, wasn't much. He was too relieved at not being asked what had happened the previous night again.

"Are your dreams usually this real?"

Watanuki grumbled, but decided there was no use trying to deny it.

"Not all of them. Most of my dreams are quite normal, but some of them are even more realistic than this one."

"You told me that you've seen my grandfather in a dream a couple of times. Do you meet him often?"

"Not often, but sometimes."

Doumeki looked around again, as if hoping to see his smiling grandfather pop in from a hole in the darkness.

"He's not here, if that's what you are looking for."

Watanuki placed his empty paper cup in his bag and rubbed his hands together. For an early-summer night, it was getting awfully chilly in that place. He supposed that he couldn't expect to have his dreams be consistent with reality's weather, when they obviously hadn't bothered to be in other areas. Like his sexual preferences, or his sense of decorum, or his general likes and dislikes of people, for instance, seeing as to how they had provided him last night with jerk Doumeki instead of cute Himawari-chan for a dream partner. Watanuki made a mental note to find someone to complain to regarding this matter as soon as he left his current nightmare.

_Of all the people to be stuck in a nightmare with, it __**had**__ to be Doumeki._

A small, weak, and timid part of Watanuki's mind tried to argue that that wasn't necessarily bad, in fact, it was a pretty good thing considering the guy had spirit repellent properties, but the biggest, nastiest, loudest, most anti-Doumeki part of his brain shut it up with a brutal kick and a ferocious half-nelson.

Doumeki was looking at him again, apparently having resigned himself that he wasn't about to meet his grandfather there.

"How much control do you have over your dreams?"

Another, more cautious part of Watanuki's mind tried to warn him that it didn't like the course this conversation was taking and that it would be wise to change the topic soon, but couldn't be made itself heard over the loud victory yells issuing from the main stream of Watanuki's thoughts, currently overjoyed at having successfully beaten up the insolent half-thought of Doumeki appreciation. Eventually, the cautious part of his mind just gave up, which caused Watanuki to find no reason not to answer with another question.

"What do you mean by control?"

"Can you choose what your dreams are about?"

Watanuki hugged himself to fend off the cold and considered pouring himself another cup of tea before answering.

"No."

"Can you choose what happens in those dreams?"

Watanuki had a fleeting memory of being chased by hand-shaped ayakashi, and when he answered, it was in a very emphatic manner, shivering slightly from what he could only assume was residual fear.

"_No_."

"Can you choose who appears in the dreams?"

Watanuki sighed miserably, remembering last night's dream.

"No."

"Can you control what those people do?"

Once again, he was reminded of last night's dream, and he shook himself mentally before answering. The last thing he needed was to bring back those images to the forefront of his mind again... although they probably _would_ help him shake off the cold.

"Definitely not."

"Can you control what _you_ do in the dreams?"

Watanuki thought about it for a second but the cautious part of his mind was still sulking at being ignored and refusing to talk to him, so he decided to answer with the truth.

"About as much as I can control what I do in real life."

"Was it in one of these realistic dreams where you left your glasses?"

Watanuki nodded, and couldn't help noticing that Doumeki was looking oddly satisfied about something. All kinds of alarms started going off in Watanuki's mind. Clearly nothing good could come out of Doumeki feeling pleased about anything. Something was fishy about this.

Unfortunately, Watanuki was getting too distracted by the cold now to care much what Doumeki was asking about, or the answers he was giving in return, no matter how many alarms were blaring off in his mind. He poured himself a second cup of tea and felt disappointed at how fast it grew cold when he tried to warm his hands with the cup.

That was the only reason he answered like he did when Doumeki fired away the most important of his questions.

"Have you met anybody else besides my grandfather in your dreams?"

"Yeah. Generally it's Yuuko-san, but I've met a childhood friend a couple of times." A dead childhood friend, but Doumeki didn't need to know that. Watanuki continued, counting with his fingers as he enumerated. "Sakura and Syaoran, the girl with the bells and you."

"Me?"

Watanuki realized how stupid he had been in mentioning that when Doumeki looked like he had found the answer he had been looking for all along. The cautious part of his mind 'hmph'-ed in an 'I-told-you-so' way and crossed its arms, enjoying Watanuki's discomfort immensely and refusing to cooperate now that its help was desperately needed.

Watanuki started babbling at high speed, desperately describing a dream he had had a while back, definitely _not_ the one he had had the previous night, in the hopes that Doumeki would think that was the only one of his dreams in which he had made a guest appearance.

"We were fishing but we couldn't catch anything so we went to find a place to rest for the night but once we did we were attacked and chased by women who weren't really women but..."

"Birds," the other boy supplied. "And I distracted them by throwing the fish bait so we could escape."

Watanuki gaped, his mind now full of a nasty kind of buzz that didn't let him think properly. He hadn't told anybody about this dream before, not even Himawari-chan.

"How _the hell_ did you know that?"

_Is he a mind reader, after all?_

"Because I had the same dream too, not so long ago. So I was just sharing one of your realistic dreams... no wonder I woke up with a funny smell in my hands that morning. That was just the fish bait."

Watanuki could feel destiny laughing at him when the other boy looked straight at him and asked, in what seemed to be his normal tone of voice but that to him sounded cavernous, mocking and cruel, "What did you dream about last night?"

Panic, sheer, blinding panic, flooded his mind and left his mouth in a shriek.

"_Why would you care what I dreamt about last night?"_

Doumeki seemed on the verge of answering for a moment, but then raised a hand to tug at the collar of his shirt instead, exposing the skin of his neck and part of his chest.

Watanuki stared dumbly for a second before he noticed what it was Doumeki was trying to show him: a coin-shaped, rosy-coloured bruise, right where the neck and the shoulder met. Even Watanuki could tell at a glance what that bruise really was, even if his mind was refusing point-blank to call it by its proper name.

...although it did supply him, and quite readily at that, with a flash of his dream that would explain _how_ that particular brand of bruise got to be in Doumeki's neck in the first place, and _who_ had left it there.

So much for trying to keep those images out of the forefront of his mind...

A fresh wave of panic coursed through him at the possibility -looking more feasible every second- that last night's dreams had been more than a simple dream, after all.

He hastily tried to stand up, ready to defend his honour and his dignity from this horribly cruel joke destiny and Doumeki were playing on him, but found that his legs were by now so stiff by the cold that he only succeeded in tripping and falling in an undignified heap to the floor.

Confused, he tried again with similar results. It was then that he recognized the cold for what it was, when he looked at Doumeki and noticed that the guy wasn't even shivering.

He had felt that kind of cold only once before, in the Lady of the Spiders' lair.

He had labelled this dream as a nightmare, and so he was about to face the consequences of such an action by having an unseen, extremely powerful ayakashi attack him and try to eat him.

The monsters that plagued his nightmares were usually much, much worse than the ones he could find when awake, since they were sort of a collection of the worst features of each of the ayakashi he had encountered.

Among those, what had scared him the most was the Lady of the Spiders' cold, as it was something he couldn't fight. Bad smells were annoying but harmless, nausea he could tolerate and he never sustained heavy damage from fainting, but that unnatural cold that had threatened to plunge him into a dreamless sleep from which he would never wake up had managed to worm its way to the top three of his 'worst things that an ayakashi can do to me' list, right next to eating and possessing.

Normally, this wouldn't be so worrisome, as, in typical nightmare fashion, he would wake up before things got really nasty. Usually his nightmares involved being chased for a while, tripping, and waking up before the ayakashi had made up its mind where it was going to start eating him by.

He had already done the tripping, so he curled up in a shivering ball on the floor, glaring at Doumeki and daring him to laugh at his predicament, hoping that the ayakashi would show up soon so that he could wake up and avoid having to admit anything to the annoying guy.

However, an unsuspected problem had popped into existence as his dreams got gradually more real. Watanuki hadn't had a nightmare in a long time, so he hadn't yet realized that in the same way as the actions in his dreams affected his waking self, anything that happened in a nightmare would equally have consequences once he woke up.

Blissfully ignorant of the seriousness of the situation, Watanuki only proceeded to glare at Doumeki as the jerk finally seemed to notice that something very wrong was happening to him.

He watched as the guy stood up and ran towards him, looking sharply around, trying to spot the source of his discomfort.

It didn't take him long to find it, as in that very same instant, an ayakashi in the shape of a fine mist materialized all around Watanuki's lying figure, growing denser and intensifying the effect it had on the boy by the second.

Watanuki couldn't help but think with some irony that at least this situation had managed to dissuade Doumeki from asking anymore questions or flashing him anymore bruises of dubious virtue.

Watanuki was shivering violently from the cold by now, his hands and feet numb, his teeth chattering despite his very best efforts to make them _behave_. It was humiliating to be there on the floor, curled up on himself, suffering from the intense cold while the_ jerk _felt nothing at all and just kept looking at him like _that_.

Watanuki looked up from his position at Doumeki, who was standing next to him, staring fixedly at him. Watanuki was so confused, so humiliated and so ashamed from the night's revelations, that it looked to him as though Doumeki was _gloating_ at his misery.

Nothing could be farther from the truth.

As a matter of fact, at that moment Doumeki's mind was working like mad, trying to push out the guilt of being so caught up in their conversation that he hadn't realized something was wrong with Watanuki until it was painfully obvious. He had noticed Watanuki had seemed distracted while they talked and he had been surprised at the usually spazzing teenager's lack of reluctance to answer his questions, but to think that this had been the reason... He forcefully drove those thoughts out of his mind. He knew that guilt was useless, and he couldn't allow himself to dwell in it if he was to find a way to free the shivering boy from the clutches of the ayakashi he could barely see as a thin mist. He didn't have his bow, and his bag... he wouldn't be able to use the contents by himself. It wasn't finished, after all... Would it work if he attacked the ayakashi with his bare hands? Would his 'cleansing aura' as Yuuko called it, be effective even without a medium to transfer it? Maybe he would chance the bag, anyway. He wanted, _needed_ to help, but what if he actually made the problem worse?

Watanuki knew nothing of these thoughts, though, so he just looked up in anger at Doumeki and spoke, his words coming so bitter, and so intense, that they sounded very much like a curse.

"It would be nice," said Watanuki, forcing the words through his chattering teeth, "if the ayakashi latched to _you_ instead of _me_, for a change."

For many years to come, Watanuki would regret having said those words. He had meant them as nothing more than a way to erase that annoyingly blank look out of Doumeki's face. He certainly hadn't meant them to cause what happened immediately after uttering them.

Because what happened after those words left his mouth, born out of his frustration, his confusion, his shame, was that the cloud that had started to gather slowly around himself left him completely... only to surround Doumeki instead.

He felt only a second of gleeful triumph, during which he actually quite enjoyed the fact that he wasn't feeling so cold any longer, and that Doumeki would, for once, learn what it meant to be stalked and annoyed by ayakashi no matter what he did to avoid it.

After the second was over, however, he quickly discovered what a disgusting, evil thought that had been, when he noticed that the ayakashi was having a radically different effect on Doumeki than it had had on _him_.

Instead of shivering with cold and curling up in a little ball like he had, like he imagined the infuriating guy would, Doumeki actually stumbled, face locked in a grimace of pain and surprise, hands clawing at his own chest. It didn't take Watanuki long to realize what was happening. The ayakashi had gone for Doumeki's lungs, and was slowly choking him to death.

The reason for this was simple, yet no less serious for that. While Watanuki's nightmares involved being unable to escape one of the many ayakashi that tried to eat him on a daily basis, Doumeki's worst nightmare occurrence was going back to a time when he had been so weak physically that the most innocent allergy-induced asthma attack could degenerate into a mortal threat. His parents hadn't chosen to dress their only son in kimono meant for a girl because of how cute he looked in them. They had done so in a desperate bid to save his life.

Suddenly Watanuki felt a different kind of cold washing over him.

This couldn't be happening. It simply couldn't.

He watched, horror-struck, as Doumeki fell to his knees, mouth opening and closing in an effort to bring air into his lungs, horrible choking noises issuing from his throat. Then slowly, so very slowly, Doumeki fell forward, supporting his weight with one arm against the floor, the other reaching for something that was too far from him to get.

For the space of several seconds or several days, Watanuki simple watched as Doumeki's face turned slightly red, then purple, and then slowly began to pale. His mind felt sluggish, locked in horror at the scenes playing in front of his eyes, stupidly telling himself that this was definitely one of the worst nightmares he had had, and hoping he would wake up soon.

After those seconds or days were over, however, his mind started working so fast and so furiously that all movement seemed to slow down to almost nothing.

If this was a nightmare -no doubts about that- and it was following the logic of his other dreams, then whatever happened inside it would happen in the real world too. Which was to say if he didn't do anything to help Doumeki... if he didn't...

A feeling of complete hopelessness came over Watanuki when the whole truth struck him, the whole, horrible truth that, adept as he was at attracting spirits, he was totally powerless when it came to driving them away. That was Doumeki's and Yuuko's expertise, not his. He had no means to answer Doumeki's silent plea for help when the suffering young man raised his gaze from the floor, looking at him straight in the eye, those horrible, horrible choking noises still issuing from his mouth.

Watanuki had never felt so helpless in his entire life.

He was used to being attacked by whatever supernatural beings there were in a hundred meter radius, he was used to being the one that suffered from strange afflictions that had nothing to do with normal sicknesses, and lately, he had even started to get used to being the one being rescued all the time, but never before had he been in a situation when he was actually expected to help rescue someone else, someone important to him, without any sort of advice or reassurance that he could do a good job of it. Yuuko-san wasn't there, Haruka-san wasn't there. He didn't have the kudakitsune with him, heck; he didn't even have _Mokona_ to help him. He was alone with the knowledge that one of the most important people in his life -whether he wanted to admit it or not- was going to die right in front of him, because of him, and he would be unable to do anything to stop it.

It was terrifying, overwhelming, unbearable. He _had_ to help, he _had_ to do something, _anything_. He couldn't... he simply _couldn't _stay there as Doumeki was slowly being choked to death. He had to at least _try_... even if it probably wouldn't help at all. It was then, as he forced himself to drag his eyes away from Doumeki's face, that he paid attention for the first time to the motions Doumeki was doing with his free arm. Stupidly, he looked to where the flailing arm was trying to reach, and his eyes finally discovered a shape several feet away from them. It was the ugly cloth bag he had noticed Doumeki was carrying when they had been abducted into this, his worst nightmare.

Desperately, Watanuki began to run towards Doumeki's bag and wondered what he was supposed to do. Toss it at Doumeki? Hit the ayakashi with it? What was so special about that bag, anyway?

And how the hell was he supposed to stay calm enough to devise a plan of action when the other guy was making those horrible, horrible choking noises? When he couldn't get the image of his suffering face out of his mind? When he could barely breathe himself through the huge lump in his throat?

In what seemed like an eternity, Watanuki reached the bag, and as soon as he touched it he noticed something was strange. The bag felt weird. It felt warm. It felt _clean_.

He yanked it open and his eyes immediately found what the source of that warmth and cleanness was. It was a bag of _salt_.

He immediately grabbed it and ran back to Doumeki, determined but scared, so very _scared_. What if it didn't work? Salt only worked with minor ayakashi, never with the big, evil type that was currently slowly choking Doumeki to death. He knew, he had tried enough times.

Watanuki was running so fast his legs were protesting at the effort. It was only a very short distance to cover, so why did it seem like he was never getting close enough? Why couldn't he stop staring at Doumeki's writhing shape, his face blue, his hands clawing at the floor in spasmodic motions, his pleading eyes fixed on _him_? Why did the sight hurt _so much_?

In a single fluid motion, Watanuki grabbed both of the bag's handles, turned, and threw it at the ayakashi, praying desperately that he wouldn't miss, that it would work, that the thing would _leave Doumeki alone_.

The bag, pouring salt from the mouth, plunged straight to the middle of the now very dense-looking mist.

A deafening shriek.

A flash of light.

The ayakashi was gone.

Doumeki, free, started coughing violently, taking huge shuddering gulps of air in between coughs. He was free, he was fine, he was breathing, he was _alive_.

Watanuki, without even realizing what he was doing, slumped to the floor and started to tremble violently. He was _alive_. Doumeki was _alive_.

It was too much for him. The sudden release of tension, the huge waves of relief coursing through his body coupled with the overwhelming guilt and the last effects of the ayakashi's presence took their toll on his weakened body.

He barely managed to turn away from Doumeki before the first wave of overpowering nausea hit him. He threw up, hacking and coughing almost as violently as the other boy, and it seemed to take forever to empty his stomach, but when he was done, he felt better.

He was still trembling from head to toes, dangerously close to tears, and wallowing in a pool of self-loathing, but he felt better. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and jumped when he felt a hand touch him gently on the back.

"Are you alright?"

Doumeki was wearing such a strange look on his face that it took Watanuki a second to identify it. _Concern_. The idiot had been _this_ close to death and he was still finding time to be concerned about _him,_ who had caused Doumeki to be in that predicament in the first place. Watanuki wasn't sure if he wanted to strangle the other boy, scream himself silly at the sheer idiocy of the guy, or start crying for all it was worth. He compromised by taking the cup of tea Doumeki was holding in his outstretched hand and rinsing his mouth, glad to be able to get rid of the nasty aftertaste of vomit.

When he had calmed down enough to trust himself not to scream, he answered.

"Are _you_?"

Doumeki shrugged.

"Now I am, thanks to you."

And now he was _thanking_ him. Watanuki felt anger rising in him uncontrollably and he couldn't take it anymore. He exploded.

"What's the _matter_ with you? Why are you being so _nice_? It was _me_ who threw that ayakashi at you! You could have been _killed_! You almost were! Why aren't you angry at me? Why aren't you yelling? It was _my fault_!"

He was so angry he couldn't even scream properly. He hated how weak and pathetic his voice sounded, more like a whine than a proper scream.

He had crushed the paper cup in his hand, and now he was trembling worse than ever.

Doumeki just kept looking at him with that alien concerned expression. When he answered, it was in his normal, even voice, with his simple, straight-forward and blunt brand of logic.

"I can't be angry at you because I'm too glad you are alive."

He couldn't meet Doumeki's eyes. He couldn't look directly at those golden eyes, they were so damn _gentle_. It wasn't _normal_, Doumeki wasn't supposed to _look_ like that; he wasn't supposed to be able to _feel_ anything that would cause his face to look like _that_, to make him look at _him_ like _that_.

The fact that he _was,_ only made him feel worse at the possibility, so very real only a few moments before, that Doumeki could have stopped _being_ altogether, all because of _him_.

"You saved me."

Watanuki was startled from his thoughts by this declaration, startled and shaken. Why couldn't the guy have the decency to be properly angry at him? It would have been so much easier that way...

"From a situation I got you into in the first place."

He would have wanted to sound angry when saying that. He would have wanted to yell or scream, but for some reason only managed a pathetic, strangled sort of guilty whine.

"But you saved me."

He found no retort to give this time.

"Why?" The voice, deep and soft, was calm, like he was inquiring about nothing more trivial than the weather.

Why? He could have answered automatically that it was because that was the normal thing for anybody to do. That he would have done the same thing for anybody else. He could even have said that it was guilt that drove him, in an effort not to have the guy's death on his conscience.

But he knew that none of those had been the reason.

If he was going to be honest with himself, perhaps for the first time, Watanuki would have to admit that he had saved Doumeki because he had been afraid, simply afraid.

The sole idea that Doumeki could disappear from his life had hurt too much, too deeply, and it had made him afraid, way too afraid.

He had once lost the two most important people in his life when his parents had been snatched from him when he was still a child. He didn't want to go through the same thing again. Never again. And if that meant stomping on his pride and admitting that Doumeki was way too dear to him to be able to stand losing him, then that's what he would do.

Watanuki covered his face with his hands, tears streaming out of his eyes now, brow scrunched up as if in pain, ashamed of the anguished sobs that were escaping his mouth, that made his words sound too weak, too distorted, too pathetic.

"_I saved you because I didn't want you to disappear."_

Was this how Doumeki had felt? Was this how it had felt to watch him be attacked and get hurt, once and again, closer to death every time? Was this why Doumeki had been willing to sacrifice _so much_, even risking being hated, being loathed, just to keep him _alive_?

And how had he repaid him? By being angry, rude, ungrateful, always suspecting him of the worst. By insulting him every available opportunity, avoiding him at all costs, complaining loudly every time they had been alone together, every time the guy had come along when he had wanted to be with Himawari-chan, even though he knew that Doumeki's presence was the only thing stopping him from being affected too badly by her condition. The guy had even had the tact never to mention it, though it would have been perfectly in his right to do so.

He had repaid him by causing an ayakashi to attack and nearly kill him.

Pride be damned, it wasn't Doumeki who had always been in the wrong.

The guy was annoying, bad-mannered, blunt, shameless and infuriatingly inexpressive, but that didn't mean that he couldn't be a good friend. In fact, he had never been anything but.

Ever since they met, Watanuki hadn't even had a chance to get lonely, because the guy had always been _there_.

Annoying him, being rude to him, pissing him off, practically stalking him, but he had been _there_ every time he had needed company, _there_ to protect him even though he did nothing to deserve it, _there_ to help him understand with his bluntness that he wasn't alone, that there were people who would go to any lengths to ensure that he was alive, and well, and happy.

And that he was one of them. Not because Watanuki deserved it, but because Doumeki had chosen to be.

Watanuki didn't know how long he remained where he was, sitting on the floor, crying harder than he had in years, his entire body shaking with the intensity of his shame, his pain and his guilt. He only knew that Doumeki never left his side, and never tried to say anything, neither in answer to his declaration nor to dissuade him from crying.

He was grateful to him for that. He didn't think he could have taken it if Doumeki had tried to comfort him or if he had asked him to explain himself further.

It felt like an eternity later when his tears finally slowed, his sobs subsided and he started feeling very foolish indeed, sitting on the floor while Doumeki watched him sniffle.

Watanuki dried his face forcefully with his hands and tried his best to make his voice sound normal when he spoke.

"We should be looking for a way to get back."

"That won't be necessary."

Watanuki snapped his head up in surprise at these words, and stared at Doumeki, who was standing at his side, offering a hand to help him stand up.

"We're back already."

* * *

**That's it for chapter three, people. ****Please look forward to chapter four: it will be the last one!**

**You can expect to see chapter four up soon, but I've still got a couple of scenes to fix before it's ready. Now it's Doumeki who's giving me problems. -_- **

**If you want the process to be smoother, telling me what you thought of the story so far may be a good idea. :)**

**Glossary and cultural notes:**

**Gouchisousama: 'It was a feast'. Japanese people say this when they finish eating. Companion to this phrase is 'Itadakimasu' (I receive this), which is said before starting to eat, though Doumeki rarely ever says it. Both are a way of saying your thanks for the food and a compliment to the one who made it.**

**Regarding salt: In Japan, salt is supposed to chase away evil, and is typically used in purification rituals. That's why you will sometimes see anime characters throwing salt when they meet a disagreeable person; they are actually implying that person is a demon or an evil spirit, which is pretty insulting no matter how you look at it. **


	4. Chapter 4

**Alright, people! Here is chapter four at last. Sorry about the delay, this chapter gave me a lot of problems and my muses were refusing to cooperate. Thank you for your patience and understanding, hopefully this will make it worth the wait.**

**Please remember to leave a review after you've read it, I truly, truly love reading what you think of my story. Come on! Don't be shy! I don't bite! You will be making a fanfic writer very, very happy if you overcome your shyness to leave a review saying what you thought about this story. :)  
**

**Once again, plenty of credit goes to my wonderful beta readers Beboots and Product Of A Sick Society. I love you girls.**

* * *

Watanuki looked around for the first time since the ayakashi attacked, and he was surprised to find that they were indeed back in what he thought of as reality.

There they were, just a few yards from the entrance to Yuuko's shop, him sitting on the dirty pavement, Doumeki standing next to him, looming over him like a golden-eyed lamppost.

It was dark out, darker than it had been when he left work, and Watanuki wondered absently how long it had been since then. Somehow he wasn't surprised that time had seemed to run at different speeds inside and outside his nightmare: that seemed to often be the case with these things. He was much more concerned trying to drive out of his mind the recollections of said nightmare, which was proving to be a wasted effort, as everything seemed to remind him of what had happened during it and its possible consequences on real life.

It being an early summer night, the air should have felt pleasantly warm, but instead it felt uncomfortably hot against his clammy skin. He was still shivering slightly from residual fear and panic as well as the ayakashi's cold, and it felt like it would be a while before his stomach stopped trying to crawl out of his belly button. At least now he had some control on his breathing back and he was no longer gasping for air in between sobs.

Silently he took the hand Doumeki had extended to help him to his feet, and noticed on contact how cold his own hand was. It reminded him forcibly that the events that had transpired in his nightmare would have shown their consequences on real life. And such terrible consequences they would be... Watanuki shook his head slightly in an attempt to disengage those thoughts from his mind.

The touch of Doumeki's hand in his felt very pleasantly warm, for the few seconds it lasted. If he had been in any condition to think rationally, it probably would have freaked him out that he found it so pleasant to have his hand in Doumeki's, but he was still trying to come to terms with everything that had happened that evening, so he let it slide. Resolved not to dwell in the sensation even if his hand felt strangely empty once Doumeki let it go, he asked the only obvious thing that came to mind.

"How long have we been back?" he said quietly.

He avoided looking at Doumeki when he asked, instead taking particular care of brushing his clothes clean of dust, noticing with distaste that the front of his shirt was wet with tears and snot. This was _precisely_ why he didn't like to cry. He very desperately tried not to think that Doumeki had been watching through it all.

"Since you started crying."

No such luck.

Watanuki winced at those words, his instinct to lash at Doumeki only barely suppressed by the fact that he didn't seem to be saying them to make fun of him, but rather was stating a fact, as if there was nothing wrong in seeing the person that had almost got you killed start wailing like a baby, mumbling nonsense about not wanting you to disappear.

It was eerily quiet all around them, and Watanuki found himself wishing the cicadas would hurry up and start with their yearly summer racket, even though he knew he would be cursing that same racket a couple of months from then. At that moment he would have gladly put up with their chirping, if only it served the purpose of breaking the tension and distracting him from his guilt. He started looking around for their things, just to give himself something to do rather than because he really cared at that moment, but he could only find the thermos flask, now empty of tea, in Doumeki's hands.

Doumeki, noticing where his eyes had strayed, offered as means of explanation, "We left the other things in the dream. I was only holding onto this when we came back."

Despite his confusion, Watanuki growled under his breath, feeling some of his energy return in the familiar form of irritation, not directed at Doumeki, for once.

"Wonderful. The dish that held the fish was Yuuko's," he mourned, grouchily, "knowing her, it was obscenely expensive and she'll add the cost of it to my debt."

Without a word, he retrieved the thermos flask from Doumeki and took it into the shop before it could come to any harm, mentally grateful that Doumeki didn't follow.

He was half-expecting to find Yuuko leering at him from the entrance, waiting for him and ready to mentally harass him for the recent events. He was surprised to find he was disappointed that she wasn't. In fact, the shop was perfectly quiet, which was somewhat understandable, considering that it had been several hours since he left the shop, even if to him it had felt like half an hour, at most. A quick search of the place found Yuuko right where he had left her, a tangle of limbs and sheets that would probably take her a while to disentangle from in the morning. Mokona was asleep at her pillow, drooling all over the place, and he couldn't help but find the scene cute, even if she was snoring rather unattractively and the place stank of the drunkards. He half-suspected Yuuko only lit incense to cover the smell of alcohol.

Watanuki carefully closed the sliding door of her bedroom with a sigh. It pained him to admit that he would have liked to have had her awake, tonight. Embarrassing as it would be, there were some things he wanted to ask her, things he needed to know.

There was only one other person who could provide him with answers to his questions, and he wasn't looking forward to asking him for them.

He turned to walk away from her bedroom and stopped mid-motion, a thought suddenly springing to life in his mind. Could it be that Yuuko had done this on purpose? She rarely, if ever, drank enough to pass out -it took way too many bottles- and he couldn't remember a time when she had failed to be there for him -drunk or not- after he had been in danger. She always seemed to have other reasons to show up, but the fact remained that she had always been _there_ to answer his questions, or at least to tease him with half-answers that he wouldn't understand until much later. Could she actually be doing this to force him to talk to Doumeki?

He wouldn't put it past her. Yuuko knew him well enough to know that he would try to avoid talking to the guy about something as important as what had happened tonight, even if the alternative meant increasing his debt and the time he would have to work for her.

He considered busying himself with chores or even staying the night, but discarded the idea almost as soon as it had appeared. He would have bet his life that Doumeki was waiting for him outside, and that he would still be there when he came out, no matter how many hours later that was. He had done it once, under different circumstances, and Watanuki didn't doubt he'd do it again. Why he was so sure he would do it tonight, of all nights, he didn't know. He was beginning to scare himself. Was he starting to _understand_ the guy?

Pausing only to wash his face and comb his hair in an attempt to regain whatever was left of his dignity, he took off.

He found Doumeki as soon as he crossed the gates, waiting for him, looking as calm and composed as ever.

Without a word, Watanuki started walking towards his apartment, and he wasn't surprised in the least when he heard the footsteps that indicated the golden-eyed teenager was planning to walk him home.

He didn't say anything for most of the way, and Doumeki didn't seem to feel the need to press him to do so. Watanuki kept his distance, walking a few paces ahead of Doumeki, and he knew it was obvious he was avoiding the guy, but he also knew he wouldn't be able to keep this up for long. He was so highly strung that every little shadow made him jump, even though he knew that there wasn't anything to fear as long as Doumeki kept near him. With a pang, he couldn't help but wonder why the obtuse guy would still stay with him, when the night's events had proved that it was _Doumeki_ who had something to fear as long as they were together.

They were already less than two blocks away from his apartment when he decided to ask the most prominent of the questions that were crowding his mind at the moment. He did so in his best haughty tone of voice, trying to convince himself that he wasn't really interested in the answer.

"What was so special about that salt?"

Doumeki didn't seem surprised by the abrupt question, and answered without missing a beat, almost as if he had been waiting for that question to arise.

"It was purified sea salt."

"That can't be it," he snapped, without waiting to see if Doumeki would add more. "I've tried using those temple salts before! They never worked as well as yours did."

"It wasn't mine."

Watanuki felt irritated that Doumeki would concentrate on the least important part of what he had said, but the need to know was bigger than the need to scream, so he just kept the conversation going.

"Was it Haruka-san's? His stuff always seems to work better than normal."

"No. It was yours."

The blue-and-golden eyed teenager stared blankly ahead as he tried to process this information. The answer was so strange that Watanuki stopped walking and rounded rather ferociously on Doumeki.

"What do you _mean_, it was mine? I'd never even seen that horrendous bag you were carrying it with!"

"It was yours from the moment you touched it."

Watanuki groaned, burying his face in his hands. This was _exactly_ why he didn't want to get his answers from Doumeki.

"Would you care to _explain_ so I can _understand_, instead of just spewing random bits of information _vaguely_ related to what I'm asking?"

Doumeki seemed to consider this for a moment, and then began to talk again.

"I've been studying, since." He pointed towards his own right eye at this. "In my grandfather's library. A couple of weeks ago, I found out how to purify salt so that it would only work if it was used by a specific person."

Watanuki was puzzled.

"Why would anybody want to do that? Isn't it better if you protect as many people as you can?"

"The more restricted the conditions, the more effective the magic when those conditions are met. It took me a while to figure out how to do it, but I managed to make it so that it would have your signature. You only had to touch the salt for it to start working."

Watanuki considered this, frowning.

"Then why were you carrying it around?"

Doumeki didn't give any notion that he found this question, or the answer, redundant. He simply looked back towards Watanuki and answered, his low voice perfectly audible even though they were standing nearly six feet apart from each other.

"To give it to you. Only, I never got the chance."

And now the entire contents of the bag were lying forgotten inside a nightmare he had no intentions of visiting again.

It was this that struck a nerve within Watanuki. Only a small amount of the salt was necessary to protect him from ayakashi, yet the big moron had prepared enough to keep him protected from the entire population of the demon world.

It was just one of those simple, unasked for gestures the stupid idiot kept having towards him. Watanuki didn't know what the process of making that salt had involved, but he was sure it would have been long, boring and exhausting, as purifying anything took quite a lot out of the guy. He knew because even when he didn't say anything about it, Doumeki always looked tired and ate more after he had protected him from a particularly powerful spirit. Making that insanely huge amount of purified salt must have drained him of quite a bit of his powers. Was that why he had been unable to protect himself when the ayakashi had attacked?

Watanuki felt as if a hand had gripped his insides and was squeezing them as hard as it could when he thought about it. It wasn't just guilt that caused this, but he was not prepared to consider those other, uncharted territories his emotions were visiting.

However, even if he didn't want to pay attention to them, they were still strong enough to drive out of his mouth the most important question he had bouncing around in his already severely abused mind. It also happened to be the one question he hadn't been willing to ask in the first place.

"Why would you go to such trouble for my sake?" he whispered.

He wasn't talking about just the salt.

Watanuki lowered his eyes to his hands, which he was slowly opening and closing into fists in a nervous gesture he hadn't even realized he was doing. Stopping the motion with considerable force of will, he risked glancing back at Doumeki, trying to make something out of his expressionless face.

Doumeki simply looked back at him, his face as blank as always, but he seemed to understand.

* * *

Doumeki wasn't very good with words.

He was, simply, the type of person who expressed himself through actions rather than words. He thought that while it was very easy to get confused and tangled with words, actions had very little margin of being misunderstood, as long as you were determined enough to get the message across.

It was very rare when he actively looked for answers, and even in those cases he only asked what he needed to know, rather than what he wanted to. There was a vast difference between fulfilling a want, and fulfilling a need. More often than not, fulfilling a want only brings despair, while fulfilling a need will never harm. The key was discovering which was which.

He didn't need to communicate the reasons for his actions, even if sometimes he wanted to. So far, he had followed his grandfather's advice and kept his reasons to himself, waiting for a time when he actually _needed_ to communicate them.

He understood enough of the boy in front of him to know that Watanuki wasn't like him. He had watched Watanuki pursue things he wanted -but definitely not needed- for long enough. That was probably what made him consider answering that question, even when he knew the guy probably wouldn't like his answer. Watanuki may not want to know the truth, but he sure needed to.

He considered telling Watanuki about all the things that he had thought about, all the things that he had decided, the determination he had taken when he found out the truth about the dream they had shared, all things that were but a mere consequence of the long chain of events that started with their meeting, as explosive, and unmemorable as it was, almost two years before.

He considered explaining how much he cared for the weird boy, how he had come to make all those decisions in the past that Watanuki hadn't understood, had complained about and had blamed him for taking. He considered explaining why it was that he went out of his way to protect him when he never did it for anyone or anything else. He considered explaining why he couldn't blame him for words uttered in shame and confusion, even when those words had almost brought tragic consequences upon himself. He considered explaining to Watanuki that he didn't place much value in words, that they were his last resort when all other forms of communication had failed, and that was why he often made a mess of things when he opened his mouth to speak.

He considered for a moment telling Watanuki all this. He considered explaining himself, so that the weird boy would have no more reason to accuse him of not caring.

He wasn't surprised when he couldn't come up with the right words to express all that in a way that Watanuki would understand, not tonight, not after what happened. He was better at expressing himself with actions, after all.

That was why, instead of answering Watanuki's question with words, Doumeki simply chose to get closer to the other boy and kiss him.

He was rather surprised, though, when he felt Watanuki start kissing him back.

* * *

Romantic movies and novels tell you a lot about kisses. They tell you that they are sweet, that you can feel yourself melting in the other person's arms, that your knees go weak, that romantic music plays in the background all the while, that time stops just for the two of you, and that your stomach feels like a hundred butterflies were doing some sort of crazy dance there.

One thing you should always keep in mind is that romantic movies and novels are trying to sell themselves.

Real kisses aren't like that, as Watanuki found out that night. Ok, yes, he _did_ feel like a myriad butterflies had invaded the sanctity of his stomach, and he _did_ feel like his knees had somehow turned to jelly, but he was discovering that there was more to kisses than what he had been told.

For instance, there was the matter of the height difference, which while being only slight, still forced him to crane his neck uncomfortably to give the other boy better access. There was also some shifting of positions to accommodate noses. There were two full sets of teeth which insisted on clacking together at the least convenient moments. There was an uncomfortable amount of saliva. There was the whole matter of the _tongues_, which didn't really seem to Watanuki to be all that good an idea. And there wasn't anything sweet about Doumeki's mouth. Rather, he thought he could taste something like roasted fish and green tea in there, which shouldn't have come as a surprise, considering the guy had eaten precisely that not long before. As for the romantic music, there was none. Instead, there was this annoying j-pop music playing from the open window of one of the houses closest to them.

But, he thought, there were also some things that movies and novels hadn't told him, and he began to wonder why, as, in his opinion, they would make an interesting selling point. They hadn't told him, for instance, that while he was kissing him, Doumeki's eyelashes would flutter like mad against his cheek, which tickled slightly but he thought was sort of cute -although he wouldn't have admitted it under pain of torture- that despite Doumeki being so calm and composed his eyelashes would be such fluttery and nervous things. They hadn't told him that a hand that had thick calluses from archery could be soft against his shoulder. They hadn't told him that that very same hand would travel slowly to his back, grab hold of the back of his shirt and start some sort of _kneading_, clenching and unclenching his fingers, kind of what a kitten would do. They hadn't told him that the other hand would be placed against the back of his head and would play slowly with his hair, making him relax and get kind of sleepy.

They hadn't told him, either, that it would feel so nice to sneak his arms around Doumeki's waist and find that they could meet at the back with room to spare. They hadn't told him that it would be so interesting to slip a hand underneath the other boy's shirt and start travelling upwards, feeling the well-defined muscles of the back. They hadn't told him that Doumeki's body would be so warm that he found himself inching closer, wanting to chase away the last remains of the cold that had tortured him only a very short while before. They hadn't told him that his body would fit so well against the other boy's that he would wonder briefly whether it hadn't been made just to be in that position in the first place. They hadn't told him that Doumeki's lips would be so, so very soft, and move so, so very tenderly against his, and that they would grow softer and more tender the longer the kiss extended.

They hadn't told him that his first kiss was bound to be awkward, and clumsy, and strange, but that if he persevered and tried different things, it would slowly get better and better, until he started to see _why_ romantic movies and novels made such a fuss about kisses.

When Doumeki finally pulled away from the kiss, Watanuki didn't open his eyes. Instead, he tightened his hold on the other boy, closing whatever distance remained between them, so that he could rest his head in the other teen's shoulder. He didn't want to know which expression Doumeki was wearing. He wasn't sure what would have scared him more: seeing that the irritating guy had been able to keep a straight face after kissing him like _that_, or if some other, unknown emotion had managed to worm its way into those golden eyes.

He wasn't even sure _why_ he had allowed the other teen to kiss him. But at the moment it had seemed natural, and now that the moment was over, he couldn't quite make himself pull away.

Besides, Doumeki's body was so _warm_. Being so close to another person made it obvious that he had been alone for too long... way too long. It felt nice to be there, relishing in the warmth of another human being, simply listening to the other person _breathe,_ feeling strangely safe to have those arms around him. He didn't want to contemplate the fact that he wouldn't have been able to feel so nice in just anybody's arms, that there was a special reason he didn't want to leave the safety of those arms.

Watanuki wasn't sure how long they stayed like that, embracing in silence. However, he _did_ know it had been too long when Doumeki's hand started travelling lower down his back to his waist... and lower still.

His primal anti-Doumeki instincts reacted before he could process properly what was happening, and before he knew it, he had pushed the other boy away and put at least five feet distance between them.

"_What the hell do you think you are touching?"_

Doumeki opened his mouth to answer but Watanuki cut him off.

"_You don't need to answer! I __**know**__ what you were touching!"_

Despite not making any noticeable change in his facial expression, Doumeki managed to look slightly sheepish.

"You weren't pulling away, so I thought..."

"_I don't need to know what you thought!_ I don't need to know what goes on in that perverted mind of yours, thank you very much!"

Doumeki crossed his arms, looking... well, _cross_.

"Funny you should call _me_ a pervert. It wasn't _me_ who got a little carried away last night."

To clarify his point, he pulled down the collar of his shirt again, exposing the still very visible hickey there.

Watanuki spluttered incoherently for some seconds, blushing furiously.

"_That's not the point!"_

"So what _is_ the point?"

When Watanuki didn't answer, Doumeki sighed and looked away, looking tired.

"I'm sorry if I surprised you, but don't you think it's too late to be surprised _now_? After what happened between us tonight? After what happened between us _last night_?"

"_Nothing_ happened last night!"

Doumeki snapped his head back to glare at Watanuki.

"I disagree. Do you need to see the hickey again? Should I describe how difficult it was to get the stains out of my sheets this morning? I could probably even show them to you; I'm pretty sure I did a lousy job. After all, I was too busy wondering what the hell had happened to make my backside so frigging _sore_."

He hadn't raised his voice, but there was no mistaking the fact that Doumeki was getting angry, and there was something that didn't sit quite right with Watanuki about this whole scenario.

The way Doumeki was talking about it didn't seem to Watanuki like the guy had a shedding of a doubt that the dream they had shared had been _real_... and he simply couldn't understand why he would be so insistent in making Watanuki admit it, too.

He had to ask about it before he lost his nerve and fled from this entire conversation altogether.

"Tonight, during the nightmare..." Watanuki hesitated, trying to push out of his mind the still very fresh image of Doumeki's face contorted with pain before he continued. "What were you trying to confirm with all your questions? I know you don't ask about things unless you already have suspicions about what the answers will be."

Doumeki didn't answer for so long that Watanuki was beginning to think that he wouldn't answer at all, so he was surprised when he heard the low, rumbling voice break the stillness of the summer night's air.

"At first I wanted to confirm it had really happened, and that it hadn't been just an overly realistic dream on my part. Then I was making sure that it hadn't been an accident. That you could control what you, and only you, were doing... and that everything happened out of our own free will."

Doumeki didn't say anymore, but the words that should have been said after those hung in the air between them, quite as clearly as if he had voiced them.

_And you__r answers confirmed all that._

There was defiance in Doumeki's profile, as if he was daring the other boy to try to deny his words, voiced and unvoiced alike.

It made Watanuki petrified to realize he had been cornered. There was no running away from this argument, no way to pretend nothing had happened, because Doumeki's words made way too much _sense_ to be ignored. And if he allowed himself to admit Doumeki was right, it would lead him to start admitting things he had desperately been trying to deny ever since he had awoken last night.

It would lead him to admit that he had been fully aware that the dream had been _real_ when it began and that he had been in control of the situation the entire time... but hadn't done anything to stop it, because he had been enjoying himself much more than he would have if it had been somebody, anybody else there with him. That no matter how much he complained to himself about it, he hadn't been able to catalogue last night's dream as a nightmare even once, although he had been trying to do just that all day. It would lead him to admit that the reason he had been replaying last night's dream in his mind for the entire day was that he _didn't_ want to forget it.

And he couldn't do that, because admitting that to himself would mean admitting it to the other person involved, and he _couldn't_ do that.

Doumeki seemed to sense his apprehension, because he chose to break the silence once more.

"There is one question that I didn't get the chance to ask."

Watanuki had to try hard not to simply run away before the guy had the chance to ask it. He felt he'd had enough of questions to last him a lifetime, but gave a 'go on' sign with his head nevertheless. Doumeki could easily outrun him, anyway. Damn guy and his _slightly_ longer legs.

"Do you regret it?"

Watanuki didn't feel that he could answer that question truthfully, not when he was still trying desperately to deny to himself that the whole thing had happened at all. Instead, he chose to throw Doumeki his own question back.

"Do _you_?"

He wasn't sure which answer he wanted to hear, or if he wanted to hear an answer at all. He kept his eyes firmly on his feet, and so was understandably surprised when he saw a second pair of shoes line up with his. He slowly raised his eyes until he locked his gaze with those eternally calm golden eyes, barely inches from his own.

There was nothing even remotely similar to regret reflecting in those eyes, only the same unrelenting determination that Doumeki had shown time and time again when it came to him.

Watanuki had to turn away. He didn't think he could handle looking at those infuriatingly calm eyes any second longer. He was too ashamed. He didn't want to admit that everything Doumeki had told him was true, not to himself, not to the other boy either. And he didn't want to consider the implication of his words. Those words implied that the guy wasn't angry at being abducted into somebody else's wet dream, but rather at the other person involved trying to deny it had happened at all, and he could find no logic behind that.

This was _Doumeki_, after all.

Doumeki, who could piss him off just by looking at him. Who had the gall to demand food of him and never thank him after practically licking the plates -or bento boxes- clean. Who recklessly risked his life time after time to ensure that he didn't disappear, even when he had no obligation to. Doumeki, who he hadn't been able to get out of his mind for the entire day. Doumeki, who he didn't want to disappear from his life. Doumeki, who he had kissed, long and slow, and had enjoyed every moment of it.

He hadn't realized he had resumed walking until he suddenly found himself facing the door to his apartment. He didn't have to turn to know that Doumeki was standing right behind him.

What more did the guy want from him? He had already turned his world upside down, emotion-wise. He had forced him to acknowledge things about himself and about the other boy he had never suspected were there. He had made him upgrade the way he felt about the other guy from enmity to companionship to friendship to something else, all in the space of a few hours.

And he had been selfish about something other than food for the first time since they met, refusing to let him forget about the dream they had shared. Not the one where he had almost been killed because of Watanuki's fault, but the one where they had shared a level of intimacy that would otherwise seem impossible between them.

It was this, much more than anything else, that made him turn and face the other boy, who was looking as unruffled and composed as if he hadn't nearly been choked to death by an ayakashi in a _real_ nightmare and then been involved in a full make-out session with somebody who had spent every day since they met telling anybody that would listen that he hated his guts.

_...__Could he really want to do __**that**__? With __**me**__?_

The idea was too bizarre to take seriously. But then again, he had kissed him, right?

Doumeki didn't say anything, but he didn't move from where he was standing, either.

It was as if Doumeki was waiting for _him_ to do something, to _say_ something. Like he had already said everything he needed to say, done everything he needed to do, and was just waiting for the outcome, whatever that may be.

Watanuki thought he wouldn't be able to stand the tension much longer. He had to say something, had to try and make sense of all this madness.

He had to make sure that this wasn't all just a big, cruel joke that had been taken too far.

He opened his mouth to speak, closed it, and opened it again.

"D... Do you _really_ want to... to..."-he couldn't even _say_ it, damn it!-"...spend the night here?"

Doumeki just nodded, as calm as ever.

Watanuki couldn't believe his eyes.

"Why?"

The word came out of Watanuki's mouth as barely more than a whisper. He wasn't even aware he had said it aloud, as it was simply the one word that was filling his entire mind, squashing all other questions, all other objections.

"You know why." It was Doumeki's turn to whisper.

After hearing those words, Watanuki did nothing but stay rooted to the spot, gaping at the ever so expressionless guy, repeating those words in his mind once and again, trying to see if they made more sense that way.

It was almost a full minute before he had managed to gather his wits about him enough to ask a strangled "Are you _serious_?"

In way of an answer, Doumeki just grabbed Watanuki's hand and gently guided it to press against... not his heart, exactly.

Watanuki blinked.

_Oh. __Well, it's not as if I was expecting the blunt idiot to be romantic or anything..._

Doumeki was still looking at him straight in the eye, his face blank, expressionless. But now he had no excuse to question whether the jerk was being serious. The hard evidence was currently pressed against his hand.

_How the hell does he manage to keep a stra__ight face in this situation?_

Watanuki swallowed heavily, feeling his face go red all the way to his ears and thinking that maybe it was about time to pull his hand away, but somehow not being able to will it to happen. Stupid hand had a mind of its own. Not to mention some other parts of his body that were currently expressing their appreciation for the developments.

_And what is he looking at me like __**that**__ for? What is he waiting for? Because if he is waiting for me to say anything about... that... he has another thing coming. _

A few seconds of uncomfortable silence went by.

_Oh, what the hell._

Watanuki suddenly reached the conclusion that there was only one way to get out of this situation without his having to say anything.

He pulled his hand out of Doumeki's grasp, only to grab the material of his shirt and yank the jerk forward into another kiss.

As it turns out, this wasn't a very smart move, for two reasons.

The first was that when Watanuki yanked Doumeki into the kiss, he had forgotten that he had his back to the door, and when Doumeki pressed obligingly forward, Watanuki was suddenly very aware of his position as his back made painful acquaintance with the doorknob.

The second was that something inside of Watanuki rebelled wildly and furiously at the thought of being pinned against a door by _Doumeki_, of all people: it was a nagging voice at the back of his mind that had been born almost two years before when they had met and had commanded most of his Doumeki-oriented hostility since then. It was slowly being drowned by the birth of other, much more enthusiastic let's-make-peace-already voices, but the veteran anti-Doumeki voice was still well-practiced enough to overcome their youthful energy to land a few well-aimed blows to Watanuki's manly pride and self-confidence.

Both of these facts combined were enough to make Watanuki grab Doumeki by the shoulders and reverse their positions with a slightly-more-forceful-than-necessary push.

Though this movement didn't fully appease the nagging voice at the back of his mind, it served the purpose of making it consider that now Watanuki sort of had the upper hand on Doumeki for the first time since they met -even though it felt it was cheating, since Doumeki had clearly _let_ Watanuki reverse their positions- and the power rush that flowed through the teenager at this thought killed all other protests the voice was trying to make... something about gender, and sexual preferences, and the fact that they were the wrong side of the door to be doing that kind of thing, and _that's still __**Doumeki's**__ mouth you have your tongue in, you know._

Of this diatribe, one thing managed to penetrate Watanuki's steadily hazier state of mind, so he made a fool of himself by trying to locate his keys and unlock the door while not breaking contact with Doumeki's mouth... he was starting to get the hang of this whole kissing business and it was making his blood pool considerably lower than his brain needed it...

Eventually, though, Watanuki was forced to admit that he wouldn't get much done without breaking the kiss, since Doumeki's backside was kind of blocking the way to the lock.

As soon as contact was severed and Doumeki's backside shoved out of the way, the door was unlocked, a shirt was grabbed and a certain golden-eyed Kyuudo practitioner was pulled inside a very neat apartment without showing any sign of surprise or resistance.

Once on the right side of the door, things soon took a turn their teenage bodies happily advocated.

Now, it would sound very romantic to say that they started kissing like there was no tomorrow, losing themselves in the throes of passion and letting their bodies dance together to the music of their heartbeats. Sadly, very little of this could be said about what happened next without lying through the teeth.

As it was, both of them were almost completely new at this whole kissing-and-beyond trip they were embarking on, and they had nothing to go by except some wild notions taken from overhead conversations in the locker rooms and bits and pieces of what they remembered doing in a dream-that-was-more-than-that... which didn't really count, since it had been sort of hurried, and clumsy, and desperate, and had been over way too soon to be properly educational. So instead of losing themselves in the moment, they were both uncomfortably aware of their limbs and where they put them, clothes and subsequent lack of, and the ever-present risk of being overhead due to the very thin quality of the walls of Watanuki's apartment. Nerves and self-consciousness were also doing a number on at least one of the two involved, and made for definitely jumpy moments. Plus, the fact remained that Watanuki was quite drained, mentally, physically and emotionally and he couldn't forget that it was well past midnight. They would have to get up early the following morning since it was a school day and neither of the teenagers had their school things with them: Watanuki had left them at Yuuko's shop and Doumeki's were at his home. Time was not kind enough to stop for the two of them.

It should also be noted, though, that it takes a bit more than this to make teenage hormones settle down, so things went beyond a simple kiss quickly and easily enough.

And while their knowledge of how these things were supposed to be was close to nil, and they were every bit as clumsy and awkward as first-or-second timers were supposed to be, they made up for it with proper enthusiasm, making them good students of the ever popular learn-by-doing school.

So even though they didn't really know what they were doing, things progressed from there and soon it was lips, and hands, and skin, and heat, and gasps, and moans like before, but this was different. This was slow, this was careful, this was tender, this was desired, this was deliberate, this was _real_.

No matter what Doumeki said, only now could Watanuki admit to himself this had happened and that he had wanted it to. That there was another reason besides guilt that had led him to react the way he had when he had sincerely feared for the other guy's life.

And when it was over and Watanuki had cleaned both of them up -the lazy jerk had _insisted_ he couldn't get up, saying he was _sore_, or something- and they were lying there alone together in the dark of his apartment, nestled against each other, feeling each other's warmth, listening to each other's heartbeats, Watanuki thought he knew what that reason was.

He still couldn't put it to words, and it probably would be a long time before he could, but it was a start. As he slowly drifted to sleep, he couldn't help but remember the kind words of an old lady, and smiled drowsily at how true they had turned out to be.

_You will have a male friend with whom you will always fight, but your relationship will run deeper._

How deep, only time could tell. But he had made his choice when he had admitted to himself that Doumeki was too dear to him to allow him to disappear from his life, and as Yuuko would say it, a choice was all it took for your reality to begin to change.

The end

* * *

**Yes, people, this is the last chapter. I never meant to make this a very long story, and it actually ended up being one chapter longer than I had originally planned. **

**There are no sequels planned, but there probably will be one or two in the future, in the shape of one-shots (I'm not planning to write many multi-chapters). If you are interested in reading them, you may want to add me to your author alert, so that you don't miss them. :)**

**I've already uploaded a one-shot that is unofficially part of the storyline of this fic, "An Octopus-shaped Revenge"; though it contains absolutely no spoilers.**

**And now you can also read a more detailed account of _what_ exactly happened after Watanuki dragged Doumeki into his apartment... it's called "The Words that Matter" and you can find it in my profile. ;D  
**

**If you've been following this story and have never reviewed, this is your last chance! I truly would love to hear what you thought of it, even if it isn't all pleasantries. I know how to appreciate constructive criticism, and I reply to every review. :3**

**Glossary and cultural notes:**

**Kyuudo: Japanese longbow archery. For some, it's considered more a way of life than a sport.**


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